Three’s a Crowd (56 page)

‘So what are you going to do now?' asked Mel. ‘You can't hide out in my juice bar forever, you know.'

Rachel gave her a startled look.

‘Don't worry,' Mel said quickly. ‘You'll always have a job there, but the thing is, you really shouldn't. You're too smart for this.'

‘Ho, you should talk,' Rachel came back at her. ‘You're way smarter than me, and you own the place.'

‘Exactly,' she said. ‘And I have a five-year plan. A couple more shopfronts in my name and I get to live like a sheik, travel, survey my empire from afar. I've got it all figured out.'

Rachel was smiling. ‘I didn't know that. Good for you.'

‘So what are you going to do with yourself, Rachel Halliday?'

She shook her head. ‘Everyone keeps asking me that, and I have no idea.'

‘Well,' Mel said with conviction, ‘we're both bright women, I reckon if we put our heads together we should be able to come up with something.'

‘What do you have in mind?'

‘Don't ask me,' she shrugged. ‘Isn't it more important what you have in mind?'

‘Pardon?'

‘What do
you
want to do, what do you like to do, what are you good at?' she fired off. ‘If you could do anything you wanted to . . . dream job . . . what would it be?'

Rachel smiled slowly. ‘No one's ever asked me that before.'

‘Well it's about time you asked yourself.'

Hi. Can i see you? Please. All

above board. Just want to see you

before we leave. Call me. T.

Rachel had been staring at the text message for some time now. She wasn't sure how long. This was the first time she'd heard from Tom. He'd taken her at her word and not made any contact. Not a word. And now this.

What did it mean? Leave? Where was he going? Where were
they
going? Up the coast, perhaps? For how long? Why would he need to see her if they were just going up the coast to visit his parents? Why was she asking herself all these questions when she could just call him?

Her stomach was twisting into knots; it had just about leaped out of her throat when the message first arrived. She still hadn't been able to steady her hands as she sat there, staring at the screen.

Okay, this was crazy. He just wanted to see her, it was all ‘above board', whatever that meant. And he was leaving, somewhere, for some indeterminate length of time. And he wanted to see her. Couldn't hurt.

Yes, it could.

But the opportunity to see his face was overwhelming. Rachel pressed the button to call before she thought about it any longer.

‘Hello, Rachel?'

She wasn't prepared to hear his voice. Which was pretty silly, since she'd phoned his number.

‘Rachel, are you there?'

She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, I'm here.'

‘Hi.'

‘Hi Tom,' she said, trying to sound normal, though she doubted she was pulling it off. ‘How are you?'

‘I'm okay. It's good to hear your voice.'

She made a kind of strangled noise to indicate agreement, acknowledgement, something or other.

‘So you got my message?' he asked.

‘Yeah, I did,' she croaked. She cleared her throat again. ‘Um, you're leaving? Going somewhere?'

‘That's right, but I'd rather talk to you about it in person,' he said. ‘Do you mind? Would it be all right to come around and see you? I wouldn't stay long.'

‘Well, when?'

‘I can come now.'

She took a breath. ‘Oh, I dunno, Tom, it must be nearly nine.'

‘Yeah, I know,' he said. ‘But I don't have much time.'

Her heart was beating hard in her chest. What was this about?

‘Look, I'm sorry if I sound mysterious,' he went on, ‘but I don't want to talk about it over the phone. I promise it won't take long.'

She wasn't prepared for this, she'd had no time to steel herself.

‘Rachel, please?' he said finally. ‘I think you might change your mind if we put it off.'

He was right about that.

‘Okay,' she willed herself to say.

‘Thanks,' he said. ‘I'll be there in, say, twenty minutes? See you then.'

And he hung up before she could say anything. Change her mind, put in a protest, call it off. He knew her too well.

What the hell. Rachel looked down at herself. Oh for godsakes, she had to change. She raced into her room and wriggled out of her baggy tracksuit pants and grabbed a pair of jeans out of her wardrobe, wriggling into them. She was panting like she'd been for a jog. Stupid. Calm down. She pulled off her oversized sweater and tossed it aside. She sniffed under her arms. What did it matter what she smelled like? But she felt all clammy . . . She ran over to her dressing table and grabbed a can of deodorant, spraying under her arms and then across her chest for good measure. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Oh God, she looked so flustered. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and shook her head, running her fingers through her hair. She looked at herself again. Makeup? No, she hardly ever wore makeup, especially not sitting around at home. She'd look ridiculous.

She crossed back over to the wardrobe, flicking through the hangers, till she landed on a plain black long-sleeved T-shirt. That would do; she didn't want to look like she'd got changed specially,
this could be something she'd wear around the house. She scuppered back down the hall, pulling the T-shirt over her head. She picked up her dinner plate and glass off the coffee table and ran them out to the sink. She turned on the tap, too hard, and water sprayed up all over her.

‘Fuck
!'

Calm down! Rachel leaned against the sink for a moment, catching her breath. She picked up a tea towel and dabbed at her top. Blast, she would have to change it. Back in her room, flicking through the hangers in her wardrobe again, she started to panic. The black top was perfect – neat, unassuming, clean . . .

The security buzzer sounded. What the? That wasn't twenty minutes. Bugger. She ran out to the hall and pressed the button to release the security door, not bothering to check, she knew it wasn't going to be anyone else. She dashed back into her room and yanked the first thing off the hanger. Crap! It was the green top. She didn't have any time. She pulled it on, shook out her hair again and walked out of the room as she heard his knock.

Rachel took a breath and forced herself to take slow, steady steps to the door. Her hand was shaking as she reached up and turned the lock. The door swung back. And he was standing there.

‘Hi,' said Tom.

‘Hi.' She stepped out of the way and he walked in, stooping to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

‘It's good to see you, Rach.'

She nodded. ‘Go through,' she said, turning to close the door again. She followed him down the hall, gazing at his back, the caramel curls at the nape of his neck, his broad shoulders. Oh God.

He walked into the living room and turned around to face her, looking straight into her eyes. It felt as though a lightning bolt shot through her.

‘Please, sit,' she somehow managed to say. ‘Can I get you something? A drink?'

He shook his head. ‘No, I'm right.' He crossed over to the couch and sat down as Rachel dropped into the armchair closest, twisting her legs up underneath her and clasping her arms around herself like she was attempting some weird yoga pose; the Coiled Spring, perhaps.

Tom sat forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘How have you been, Rachel?'

‘Fine, good, nothing to report.' She gave a nervous laugh. Deflect, deflect. She did not want to talk about herself. If she talked about herself she might end up saying that she missed him so much that sometimes she didn't know how she was going to get through the day. Then the next day would be a little better, and the day after, then something would send her plummeting again, a pair of blue eyes across the counter, or a couple walking arm in arm ahead of her. And then she'd wonder how come they got to be happy. And what had she done to deserve this? And then she'd get angry, and worse, bitter, and it would take days before she could pull herself out of that dark pit again.

So no, she did not want to talk about herself.

‘Um, how are you?' she said instead. ‘How are the girls? Is everything all right?'

He nodded slowly, clasping his hands together. ‘They're good, thanks. We're all good. We've made some big changes.'

‘Oh?'

‘Yeah.' He paused, thinking. ‘I wanted to thank you, Rachel. You were right, about everything.'

Somehow that wasn't reassuring right now.

‘I've spent a lot of time with the girls,' he went on. ‘We've talked and talked, there were so many things I wasn't aware of . . . And we've discussed a whole lot of options and possibilities. And, well, look, you don't want to hear all the ins and outs, but the thing is, I've put the house on the market and we're going away for a while.'

‘Oh,' said Rachel. ‘Where to?'

‘We've got round-the-world tickets. We're off to do the backpacking thing I never got to do all those years ago.'

She hadn't expected that. She didn't know what she was expecting, but not that. ‘Wow, Tom,' she said quietly. ‘That's wonderful. I'm really happy for you.'

He nodded. ‘Yeah, it's great, really, the girls are very excited.'

‘How long are you going to be away?'

‘Well, you know how those tickets work, you have a year to
use them. But I don't think we'll go for quite that long, it'll be too disruptive to their schooling.'

‘Oh, of course, school,' said Rachel. ‘What are you going to do about that?'

‘Well, it doesn't matter for Sophie, because she's already a senior, so she's not legally required to attend school.'

Rachel frowned. ‘So she's quitting?'

‘Not exactly. She'll have to do Year 11 over, but she can go to a senior college, so it won't feel so much like she's repeating.'

‘And Hannah?'

‘We had to jump through a few hoops with the education department, but she was considered a special case because of her mother. So they've given us units of work for her to complete while she's away, which should be a challenge,' he added wryly. ‘But Sophie has promised to help.'

‘And Hannah's okay with that?'

He nodded. ‘She's had her moments – you know what their friends are like to them at that age. But her sister is very persuasive. She's been the driving force behind this whole thing.'

‘So I suppose you're going to South America?' asked Rachel.

Tom smiled faintly. ‘Yes we are, as a matter of fact. Sophie wants to check it out. And quite frankly I'm happy to be checking it out too, if she does decide she wants to do the exchange thing later.'

Rachel's head was buzzing, trying to take it all in. ‘And what about your job, Tom?'

‘That was the easiest decision,' he said plainly. ‘I quit.'

‘But how will you live?' she blurted. ‘Sorry, that's none of my business.'

‘It's okay.' He paused, sitting back. ‘Thing is, Annie had a life-insurance policy. It was something she insisted on, way back. She said if anything ever happened to her I'd need help with the girls. And she was right. I just couldn't bring myself to cash it in before now. But this is for the girls, so . . .'

Rachel nodded. ‘You don't need to explain, Tom.'

He shrugged.

‘So when do you leave?' she asked.

He took a breath. ‘End of the week.'

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. ‘I see.'

‘Rachel, there's so much I want to say to you . . .'

‘No, Tom, it's probably better if you don't say anything,' she said firmly. ‘I'm happy for you, I really am, please know that. This is an amazing thing you're doing. A lot of people wouldn't have the guts.'

‘I'm only doing it because of you,' he said. ‘You forced me out of here, made me face up to my responsibilities and connect with my daughters again. I had been keeping them at arm's distance, because I just didn't know how I was going to be able to love them enough to make up for their mother. And I've finally realised I don't have to do that, I just have to be their dad.'

Rachel smiled faintly. ‘I'm so glad, Tom.'

‘That was an extraordinary, selfless thing you did for us,' he went on. ‘You know, I hope you don't mind me saying, but Annie would be very impressed.'

She shrugged. ‘I think she'd be pretty impressed with you right now as well.'

He was staring at her with a wistful look in his eyes. ‘Rachel, I wish . . .'

‘No, Tom. Let's not.'

‘Okay,' he nodded. ‘You're right, I know. But you do understand why I wanted to tell you in person? I didn't want to just disappear without the chance to explain.'